


Turn to Dust or Gold (Remember Me for Centuries)

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:04:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Clarke is auditioning for Bellamy’s/other people’s rock band and Bell is cynical at first because she’s like blonde and looks girly BUT THEN CLARKE BLOWS THEM ALL AWAY WITH HER MAD GUITAR SHREDDING SKILLS’</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Aurora Rose needs a new lead guitarist and Clarke Griffin is the catalyst that turns the band's luck around. (And captures Bellamy's heart? Who can know.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn to Dust or Gold (Remember Me for Centuries)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for [Bellarke Fanfiction](http://www.bellarkefanfiction.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> Title from Centuries//Fall Out Boy

**I** t takes his bandmates months of badgering to get Bellamy to admit that they need a lead guitarist. **  
**

Which makes it sound like he’s incredibly stupid—you can’t call yourself a rock band if you don’t have a lead guitarist—but after the catastrophic blow up that was Murphy, he has trouble being excited about inducting another egotistical hotshot.

“Never mind that  _all of us_  are egotistical hotshots,” Raven comments when he makes that argument.

“Exactly,” he shoots back, “Four pretentious assholes is fine. Five is the tipping point.”

.

.

.

It’s Octavia who finally convinces him to stop being so stubborn.

“I can’t carry vocals for an entire song while you’re being our stand-in guitarist instead of our lead singer,” she says to him after practice one day, “Our base suffers, and my voice isn’t as good as yours.”

“Your voice is amazing,” he assures her, offhandedly.

His sister frowns and flicks his shoulder. “This isn’t me being insecure, idiot. I’m the best goddamn bassist you’ll find, but I’m woman enough to admit that your vocals are better than mine. And we both know I don’t play as well when I’m singing.”

He rubs his shoulder, “But you’re not  _bad_. And I know where you’re going with this. Answer’s still no.”

She groans dramatically, tipping her head back before straightening to look him in the eye, finger jabbing his chest, “I  _know_  I’m not bad. But what happened to wanting to be  _great_? Huh? We can’t be our best when our lead singer is too busy being a mediocre lead guitarist. And you can’t be both, ergo,” she tilts her head pointedly, “we need a new guitarist.”

It’s true that neither of them have good enough rhythm to carry vocals while playing anything more complicated than simple chord progressions. And Raven can’t very well sing while she’s contributing to their signature sound with sailing harmonies on her violin—a surprisingly euphonic counterpoint to their edgy vocals and pop-punk guitar riffs, that, if he’s being honest, is what’s gained them the popularity they have so far. And Jasper can’t sing. Period.

So yeah, their precision has suffered since Murphy’s departure. Bellamy will argue, though, that their sanity has improved by leaps and bounds. And, in general, he’s just not eager to integrate a stranger into their tight knit group. Aurora Rose has become something like his happy place amongst working multiple jobs and trying to take online classes. He trusts the people he’s surrounded himself with, and they trust him, and opening the band to someone new seems like a betrayal of that trust. But now they all seem to agree with his sister and he’s forcing himself to consider it.

Plus, summer festival season is coming up and they need to have a proper lineup if they want to be seriously considered—and not end up playing on the 3rd Street Promenade while rich LA residents and excitable tourists walk by and drop pennies in their guitar cases to feel good about themselves.

Not that they don’t deserve those pennies. They’re  _good_ , but they’ve all been itching to really  _show it_ for ages now. Unsurprisingly, street gigs aren’t as sweet when that’s all you’ve been playing for the last two years.

So he nods resignedly and announces the decision at their next practice—a declaration met by muffled ‘finally’s from the rest of the band—and by the end of the week they’ve got flyers papered up over most of west Los Angeles. Monty, who acts as their pro-bono manager, puts ads up on facebook and tumblr too, insisting they can’t rely solely on word of mouth.

.

.

.

They’re decently well known in the area, so when Saturday morning finds them at the rehearsal space that Raven manages to reserve at the local community college, they have a line of about twenty aspiring guitarists.

The band files in to get their gear set up before letting their applicants in as well, who fill in the semi-circle of seats around the room, and finally they begin; calling them to the front of the room, one by one.

Each starts with a solo performance, asked beforehand to prepare the guitar solo for Shooting Flares. Then they join the full band for the first verse and chorus of Cerberus’ Left Head to see how they mesh—how well they listen to the other band members, especially when they get to the tricky tempo change. They’ll each finish with an additional 1 minute of any song that they think showcases their strengths.

(Monty says it’s kind of a lot for them to prepare. Bellamy argues that they’re going to have to know a whole lot more than that if they’re asked to join the band.)

They determine order by volunteers and, as expected, the first couple are a bit up on themselves.

None of them are  _awful_ , but he also doesn’t miss that each of them stumbles over the climax of the solo and most of them take a second to catch up with the rest of the band after the tempo change.

Glances shared with his bandmates throughout the first few auditions tell him they’ve noticed the same things, but perhaps don’t share the same total disappointment as he does. He can practically hear Octavia’s  _he’s really not bad, Bell_  through the incline of her head, the slight shrug of her shoulders.

But not bad isn’t  _great_ , so they keep going.

It takes him three auditions to notice that the blonde girl in the back who keeps looking up and back down—the gold flash of her hair catching his eye throughout the songs—is actually taking  _notes_  on each of the guitarists that go up before her.

The prim set of her jaw and the tilt of her head when she considers each of them sets him immediately on edge. She looks entirely like the kind of person he despises; privileged and looking to find fault in everything that’s not up to her pompous standards, just so she can look better when she gets it right. He has to actively try not to grind his teeth each time she scribbles something on her notepad and force his attention back to the auditions at hand, which are more than enough to keep him busy.

They get a good mix of people who are excellent on their solos but can’t quite keep with the band, as well as the reverse, people too timid without the band behind them to make their solos anything close to memorable.

One girl takes a creative twist on Shooting Flares, and it’s not  _bad_  per se, but that solo is one of the band’s most well-known riffs; their signature, almost. She makes it softly eerie instead of angry and, while it’s a gutsy risk, it’s not one that he can advocate.

And because he can’t help it, he glances up at the blonde girl once he’s come to this conclusion.

She’s watching, listening intensely, pen resting against her closed lips as the song reaches the climax, still soft instead of hard and angry, and when it doesn’t grow any louder, he sees her shake her head almost imperceptibly.

She doesn’t actually write anything down, though, and he’s about to admit that he’s maybe being a dick, assuming the worst in her when he actually has no idea what she’s thinking, but as the solo draws to a close, something lights in her eyes and she scribbles furiously, a grin forming on her lips and he’s right back to grinding his teeth.

They break after the tenth audition, sending the remaining hopefuls out to use the bathroom or grab a quick cup of coffee.

“Well this is looking spectacularly mediocre,” Jasper says, once the room is clear. And yeah, Bellamy’s inclined to agree.

“Clarke Griffin is here,” Octavia pipes up, excited, as she sets her bass on its stand, flexing her wrist.

“Who?”

She gives him a look that says she thinks he’s hopeless.

“Clarke Griffin,” she repeats as she ties her hair up, “She’s been gaining a lot of popularity lately. Does indie covers and some original stuff on her ukulele.”

Monty nods along, “She’s good. Didn’t know she played guitar, but I’m not exactly surprised.”

Bellamy knows that indie and rock go hand in hand a lot of the time, really, he does, but ukulele covers are so far outside their sound that he can’t help being skeptical.

“Which one is she?”

“Blonde,” Octavia supplies, “She’s been sitting in the back for most of the time, keeping to herself.”

He stiffens at the description, and tries—not really all that hard—to keep from rolling his eyes. Her notetaking makes more sense when he fits it into the image of an upcoming artist who thinks she’s the shit.

“She didn’t email to RSVP,” he notes coolly.

O rolls her eyes and Raven actually turns away in annoyance. “Why did I get the feeling you’d decide to hate her? Are you happy with anyone we’ve heard so far? Because if you’re not, you don’t have room to complain about extra applicants.”

“I don’t hate her,” he shrugs, “just don’t think her sound will work for us.”

Even Jasper looks like he doesn’t quite believe that.

“Promise to give her a fair chance. Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m offended you think I’d throw an audition for such superficial reasons.”

“Are you,” she deadpans, before slapping his back as she heads over to let everyone back in.

.

.

.

There are a couple promising leads in the second wave of auditions, people he thinks could be a good choice, once they’ve played with the band for a while, but no one who really  _fits_  the way he’d want them to.

Then they reach the last audition, and  _of course_  it’s her. Because he wouldn’t expect her to do anything but wait until she’s scoped out all of the competition. The rest of the room is empty, all the others having left after their auditions.

Octavia sends him a pointed look as the blonde makes her way to the front of the room and he waves her off. He’s not planning to judge her unfairly, but he’s also not going to give her any advantage for being vaguely well known.

“Hi,” she says when she reaches them, “I’m Clarke Griffin.” Her voice is a little low, and mostly confident, but he thinks he can hear a bit of nervousness there. She’s also kind of distractingly pretty, now that he can see her up close, but he forces himself to ignore that realization.

“I’ve been doing mostly solo stuff for a while, but my heart’s set on being part of a group, so I’m excited to audition for you guys.” She nods at each of them in turn. Octavia gives her a little wave and she smiles back, soft.

Bellamy meets her nod with an almost imperceptible one of his own and he swears he sees her eyes narrow a bit, like she knows what he’s thinking.

“Playing solo and playing with a band are two completely different things.” It comes out probably more snidely than is appropriate, but he doesn’t plan on taking it back. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Raven coughs uncomfortably, but Clarke just levels him a steely gaze. She doesn’t take his bait, doesn’t respond with an indignant _‘I know they’re two different things’_  like he sort of figured she would.

Instead, she hooks her guitar up to the amp, plays a couple warm-up chords, testing the volume, and, with another withering glance at him, breaks directly into the Shooting Flares solo, the first two chords as intense and hard hitting as he’s ever heard them played.

And yeah, he might have to eat his words, because she’s good.

Where Murphy always played it with a sort of frenzied anger, her take is equally aggressive, but with an underlying layer of disenchanted sadness. And it’s really fucking _good_. Different, but not in a way that takes away from their signature sound. He hasn’t heard her music, but he’s willing to bet it’s her sound that he can hear layered in underneath.

It’s still _them_ , but it’s them taken to another level and he can’t really do anything but stare at her determined eyes, and her fingers shifting on the strings.

When he finally tears his gaze away, it’s to meet eyes with each of his bandmates, who all look back at him with varying expressions of  _holy shit, she’s amazing._  Octavia’s look is, notably, a little more smug than the rest.

And he can’t deny that, whatever Clarke Griffin has been writing down this whole time, it’s led her to exactly what the solo needs; familiarity with an edge of something new. When she gets to the complicated bit that everyone struggles with—himself included, if he’s being honest—there isn’t a hint of hesitation as she powers into it, a tiny, satisfied smile settling on her lips.

They haven’t seen how she plays with the band yet though, so he withholds his judgement, and shoots Jasper a glare when he actually starts to applaud when she finishes the solo.

_Sorry_ , he mouths with a shrug, picking up his drumsticks again as Bellamy rolls his eyes.

He finds Clarke looking at him expectantly, fingers still on the strings, and has to take a second to reconcile the image of this short, almost intimidatingly pretty girl dressed in jeans and a flowing floral top with the person who was tearing angry riffs on her guitar just seconds ago.

He stores this away to think about later—or maybe, pretend _not_  to think about later—and just gives her a curt nod. “Cerberus’ Left Head?”

She sets her teeth a little, maybe noticing he hasn’t made any comments about her solo the way he did with the other guitarists, but apparently opts not to mention it.

“Ready when you are,” she says, polite, voice notably at odds with the spark he can see in her eyes.

He just signals to Jasper, who counts them off.

And he really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is that she’s just as good with the band as she was on her own. Better, even.

She starts the verse quiet, in a way that Murphy never would, too eager to be anything but loud. When he comes in on vocals, she actually gets  _quieter_  and he has to lower his voice to keep from overpower her melody.

He shoots her a glance, or possibly a glare, but she just meets his eyes with a satisfied expression and something almost like a  _shhh_ on her lips that makes his blood boil. He’s inches from stopping the song, asking her what the _hell_  her problem is, when Raven comes in on the violin.

And her entrance, though still quiet, is much more salient and piercing than it usually is, now that it doesn’t have to fight the guitar and his voice to be heard.

He looks back to Clarke, who inclines her head toward the violinist a little, a soft look in her eyes as if to say,  _See? Not so bad._

He nods a little, grudgingly, and she grins at him before turning her attention back to her guitar.

They can’t keep the song quiet forever, though, and he watches her carefully as they come up on the tempo change.

Just before it happens, her eyes shift to Jasper—the exact way his always did when they first put the song together—and she follows his pace easily, matching and exceeding the skill of everyone they’d seen so far.

And at the same time, she strums a little louder, bit by bit, so that everyone else grows louder as well, himself included, bringing their volume up seamlessly with hers. Raven’s violin slips into the background again, but he finds that starting quieter this way means his ears, already attuned to her harmony, don’t ever completely lose it to Octavia’s bass.

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world, she’s changed the song, made it better than it’s ever sounded before and he’s not sure if he should be angry or elated.

When the chorus fades out, Raven and Octavia turn to each other, whispering excitedly, and Clarke’s looking at him…sheepishly?

“Um,” she starts, fingers fiddling with her pick, “I know I completely screwed up the beginning,” behind her, he sees Raven shake her head vehemently, “but I wanted to see how it would sound if…”

“You didn’t completely screw it up,” he says, gruff, stopping her short. Her eyes widen and he adds, “Some warning would be nice next time though.”

She grins, wide, after a second and it’s a little blinding, “Didn’t think you’d go for it if I did.”

Raven laughs, “She’s not wrong there.”

He flips her the bird before refocusing on Clarke. “You have something else for us?”

She nods, all business again, brushing a strand of hair behind her shoulder. “Yeah. You guys know Stockholm Syndrome? Muse?”

He just nods silently, like Muse isn’t his favorite band, and like Matt Bellamy isn’t basically his inspiration for becoming a musician in the first place—something that Octavia likes to tease him about endlessly. (“You’re both Bellamy’s. It’s pretty hilarious.”)

“Go for it,” he says, and waits to be blown away, because, really, what else can he expect at this point?

She starts directly at the guitar solo, because  _of course_  she does, and executes it flawlessly while he tries not to be completely in awe of her.

While she plays, he can see Raven bouncing on her toes in giddy excitement, violin in hand, like she’s itching to join in.

She catches him looking and sends him a questioning look, and because,  _fuck_ , okay, it’s hard to not want to join in when someone as amazing as Clarke is playing, he just shakes his head a little in disbelief, grinning, before nodding to her.

She smiles back, sending him a thumbs up before lifting her instrument to her chin and playing a single piercing note just as Clarke’s solo shifts.

He watches the blonde’s eyes widen, shifting to turn toward Raven as a grin grows on her face, nodding along as haunting strains of violin play harmonies above her hard, fast riffs. He sees an idea light in her eyes and watches her lift her chin at Raven, who only takes a second to grin and nod back, easily shifting an octave higher on the next measure…and what sounded good before is suddenly impossibly  _better_.

Clarke turns to look to Octavia next, a softly questioning smile on her lips. His sister catches his eyes with an _I-told-you-so_ eyebrow raise before fitting her bass into the song with a couple soft strums before building to tangle with Clarke’s melodies, just slightly lower, and Clarke grins, wide and beautiful, as their guitars blend together.

By the time they reach the end of the solo, all it takes is a glance for Jasper to join in, punctuating Clarke’s last descending, dramatic strums with four hard beats as the song leads into the final chorus.

He comes in with vocals and another layer of guitar before she can turn to him, but he feels the weight of her gaze when she does.

_“This is the last time I’ll abandon you.”_

When he meets her eyes, her smile is wide and wild, a bit of triumph at the edges. Her chords push his just a little faster until they settle on a tempo and it’s really out of his control to  _not_  smile back at her as the song draws to a close.

“Uh, I realize that doesn’t really count as a solo,” she says when they’re done, and all grinning at each other, “But I haven’t played in a group for a while and I really can’t bring myself to regret it. You guys are awesome.”

Raven and Octavia beam at her, Jasper’s still staring in awe.

He manages to reign in his smile by the time she turns to meet his eyes.

“Thanks for the opportunity,” she says, all professionalism, “I look forward to hearing your decision.”

And then she slings her guitar over her shoulder and turns to go, like she wasn’t the best guitarist they’d seen all day, by a mile. Several miles, probably.

She’s got her hand on the doorknob when Octavia elbows him in the stomach and he jolts in surprise.

“Clarke,” he calls.

She turns, halfway out the door, curious look on her face, and he’s struck with an unexpected wave of fondness, because that level of modesty _cannot_  be normal.

He clears his throat. “How do you feel about completely screwing up the rest of our songs?”

Her responding grin spreads across her face as her hand leaves the doorknob and she’s already walking back towards them when she responds.

“Maybe only most of them. A couple of them are actually alright the way they are.”

Octavia laughs, shoving Clarke a little, when she reaches them—who laughs delightedly in return, looking for all the world like she’s been part of the band for years.

“That’s big of you, princess,” he says, only partly because he wants to see her smile again.

And she does, so it’s pretty much worth it.

“Don’t you forget it, Blake,” she snipes back good-naturedly. “Hey, can we run through that verse of Cerberus again at some point?” she asks after a second, “I think if we shift Raven’s entrance up a bit, it’ll sound even better, and…” she pauses effortfully, like she has to force herself to reign it in, “Um, but it’s your band, so go ahead and tell me when I need to back off.”

“It’s _our_ band now,” he says with a shrug, “And I don’t think any of us are worried about your ideas.”

“Plus,” Raven chimes in, slinging an arm around Clarke’s neck, “It’s Bellamy who needs to back off most of the time, so call him out whenever you want.”

She does, and they get in a shouting match before their first official practice is over, but they all feel satisfied by the time they finish, exchanging exhausted smiles. And when they look back on it, they’ll probably decide that the rebirth of Aurora Rose starts the day Clarke joins the band.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited about this AU, and there are most definitely more chapters to come. For the next couple weeks though, I have a crap ton of school work to finish as the quarter comes to an end, so the next part may not happen for a few weeks.
> 
> In the meantime, I really hope you enjoyed this bit! Let me know if there's something you'd like to see in the coming chapters!
> 
> And as always, come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://www.goldenheadfreckledheart.tumblr.com). :)


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